


Wedding Glamour and Unglamour

by MathConcepts



Series: Golden In Time [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bachelorette Party, Crack Treated Seriously, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Erestor Bitching, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Glorfindel being Glorfindel, Humor, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Mention of Bachelor and Bachelorette parties, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties, Thranduil is a complete wine snob, Thranduil shows up where he isn't supposed to be, elves like to party, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-05 20:52:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16818286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MathConcepts/pseuds/MathConcepts
Summary: Thranduil caters his own wine, Aragorn discovers strip clubs (not really), Elrond is so, so done, and Erestor and Glorfindel invent pornographic services.Slight Canon Divergence (since Thranduil is present) set in the days in Gondor before Aragorn's wedding to Arwen.





	Wedding Glamour and Unglamour

* * *

"What is this?" Elrond demanded, as he stepped out of his chambers, only to be nearly bowled over by a file of elves that were making their way through the hall his door opened out upon.  
  
  
Each elf was carrying a wooden crate, and each crate clinked with the telltale sounds of glass hitting glass.   
  
  
  
"It is Dorwinion, of course." came the snide, clear voice of Thranduil from somewhere beyond the last elf. "It must be delivered to the kitchens ere sundown."

Elrond resisted the urge to pinch the top of his nose.   
  
  
"The men of Gondor will be supplying the food and drink for the wedding feast." Elrond said primly.  
  
  
"Will they also be supplying decent wine?" Thranduil retorted.  
  
  
  
Elrond's lips compressed, refusing to answer.

"As I thought." Thranduil smirked, and swept onwards after his lackeys, in a shimmer of silver robes. Brushing away the residual glitter that had gravitated from Thranduil's robes to his, Elrond departed in the opposite direction.

He met his chief advisor at the end of the hall. Erestor look harried, his robes disheveled. Elrond quirked a thin brow.

"Is yet another overzealous Gondorian maiden foisting her attentions upon you?" Elrond hazarded.

"No, just your sons, my Lord." Erestor hissed in tones of barest respect, straightening the folds of his deep blue robes. 

"What have they done this time?" Elrond questioned resignedly. Erestor favored him with a scandalized look.   
  
  
  
"They intend to take Aragorn, and make merry with him at a tavern this night. And Aragorn's Dunedain insist upon the presence of women of ill repute at the so-called celebration, I endeavored to stop them, but they made off with Estel." Erestor relayed.

Elrond could only sigh deeply.  
  
  
"It is a human custom to do as such. Aragorn must embrace his heritage."  
  
  
"Arwen will not be pleased." Erestor nearly pouted.  
  
  
  
"Then you must keep Arwen from gaining knowledge of her betrothed's activities."

"I do not consider such activities wise. I have witnessed how Gondorian courtesans act, Aragorn may not arrive at his wedding ceremony a virgin." Erestor complained.

Elrond's fine brow rose higher.

"The people of Gondor would not deflower their King."   
  
  
  
"Mortals have strange inclinations." Erestor objected darkly.  
  
  
  
"It is unseemly for you to be so judgemental, given the proclivities you and Glorfindel indulge in." Elrond said lightly, eliciting a look of mortification and sheer rage from Erestor.

As if summoned by the sound of his name, Glorfindel stepped forth from a doorway a few paces away from Elrond and Erestor.   
  
  
  
"My Lord, My Lady." Glorfindel greeted, bowing to Elrond, then straightening, and taking Erestor's hand, bestowing a kiss upon it.  
  
  
  
Erestor yanked his hand from Glorfindel's grasp.  
  
  
"Where have you been all morning, you wretch?" Erestor snapped.

"I was consulting with the florists. The bouquet arrangements must be finalized before tomorrow, my dear one." Glorfindel purred.  
  
  
"Valar damn your bouquet arrangements! I needed you here, this morning!" Erestor seethed. "Elladan and Elrohir have kidnapped the king, with intention of relieving him of his virginity!" 

Glorfindel blinked, once, twice, reduced to silence by Erestor's words, if only for a few moments.   
  
  
  
"Elladan and Elrohir have intentions to do _what?_ " Glorfindel asked incredulously.  
  
  
Elrond hurriedly broke in.

"It is not as incestuous as it sounds, my sons have merely take Aragorn to participate in his Night of the Stag." 

"Ah." came Glorfindel's sound of comprehension, eyes flitting back to Erestor. "You are overreacting, my dull dear one."  
  
  
  
Erestor drew a deep breath, a prelude to a rant of epic proportions, though his tirade was struck down before it even began, by the appearance of Thranduil, who had come back down the hall, and now interjected himself into the trio. 

"Come, come." Thranduil cooed, thrusting his arm through the crook of Elrond's. "I require wine tasters." The Elfking waited for no response, pulling Elrond along with him as he zipped back up the hall.

Erestor muttered a lengthy sentence under his breath, that carried terms such as ' _crazy Sinda_ ' and ' _drunkard_ ' and ' _Mirkwood needs temperance and prohibition_ ' although he followed after his Lord and Thranduil, with Glorfindel close behind him, the golden haired elf's eyes fastened upon the curve of his rear.  
  
  
Thranduil led them to the kitchens, where a plethora of wine bottles had been arranged over one of the wooden counters normally used for cutting meats. Taking four wine glasses, Thranduil poured generously into them, and handed them around to his companions.

* * *

  
  
  
  
  
In the city's lower levels, in a seedy tavern on the city walls, Elladan, Elrohir and a large group of Dunedain were crammed within, bodies swaying in time with music coming from well worm instruments, each hand clutching a tankard of ale.  
  
  
In the middle of the room, Aragorn was seated in a chair, a scantily clad woman danced before him, gyrating in time with the music. Aragorn heeded her not, as he was currently passed out, fingers curled around his still smoking pipe. This was generally disappointing to his entourage of Dunedain, most of which had come upon the hopes of witnessing a sight fit for blackmail of their esteemed Captain.  
  
  
  
Still, despite Aragorn's noncompliance in this regard, they had good ale, and the twin sons of Elrond, who were seemingly becoming rapidly intoxicated. 

  
The night would not be wasted after all.

* * *

"I propose a little game." Thranduil proposed, holding aloft his wine glass, his smallest finger crooked delicately.

"No." Elrond and Erestor replied in tandem, both uttering their words without looking up from the reddish liquid swirling in the bellies of their glasses.  
  
  
Thranduil lowered his wine glass, sharing a look with Glorfindel.

" _Noldor_." Thranduil sighed out pointedly, breaking eye contact with Glorfindel.

Elrond looked up sharply.

  
"What is the game you propose?" Elrond asked, finger tightening ever so slightly about the thin stem of his glass.

"A drinking game." Thranduil smirked.

"Of course." Elrond muttered, raising his glass to his lips and tilting more than a sip down his throat.

* * *

The man fell ungracefully against the table, cracking three dishes, his empty wooden mug falling from his hand and clattering across the floor and coming to rest in front of Aragorn.  
  
Aragorn did not stir.  
  
Perched nonchalantly upon a table in the corner, Elladan and Elrohir watched the proceedings as more overly intoxicated men begin to drop as flies under a noxious fume.

Elrohir _tsked_ in mock disapproval.

"These men, they cannot hold their liquor." Elrohir pointed out to his brother.  
  
  
"That is true." Elladan readily agreed.

  
"And they are Dunedain, too. How disgraceful to be felled by simple tankard of ale." Elrohir sniggered.

  
"But Aragorn was the most disappointing to us," Elladan said. "He had naught but five tankards before he swooned."

"Disappointing indeed." Elrohir laughed.

The last man fell with a resounding crash, splattering his ale everywhere. Elladan and Elrohir both _tsked_.

* * *

  
  
In the kitchens, Thranduil and Elrond lay sprawled gracefully on the floor, several empty bottles littered about them, wine glasses still clutched in their hands.  
  
  
  
Glorfindel and Erestor, on the contrary, were not in a wine-induced slumber, but wide awake, and quite involved with one another. Gorfindel had the dark haired advisor of Elrond pinned against a wall, lips pressed to Erestor's, tonuge deeply in his mouth, hands deftly working to remove Erestor's layers upon layers of blue robes.  
  
  
  
  
Erestor's hands swam through the golden sea of Glorfindel's hair, then down his back, hips rocking wantonly against Glorfindel's, all inhibitions lost with the glasses of wine which he had consumed.

Glorfindel finally pried off the last layer separating him from Erestor's smooth skin, and slid his hands to the back of Erestor's thighs, guiding Erestor's legs up, and hooking them about his waist, pressing Erestor even more firmly against the wall.

Erestor's hands had been busy at the front of Glorfindel's trousers for the last few moments, unlacing them with inhuman speed.   
  
  
Bracing one hand against the wall, Glorfindel wetted the fingers of his other hand with tonuge, an action that wrinkled Erestor's nose, and slipped the other hand around Erestor's thigh, pressing two fingers to his entrance.

Erestor rocked down upon Glorfindel's fingers, letting a moan slip past the ruins of his rigid facade as they sunk into his channel.

* * *

"Greetings." Legolas said cheerfully as he strode into the tavern.  
  
  
"Your shadow?" Elrohir queried with a raised brow.

"Gimli is aiding finalizations for the wedding preparations. He is very responsible." Legolas replied, nodding derisively in Elladan and Elrohir's direction. 

"We are _responsible_." Elladan retorted. 

"You took the King, and his best warriors, and got them all intoxicated in the most shunned tavern in Minas Tirith."

"Granted. But it was not our idea, the customs of men demanded we do as such." said Elrohir.  
  
  
  
Legolas glanced toward the half naked barmaid, who sat perched on a counter, no longer dancing. She gave him a wink, crooking a finger at him. Unsure, Legolas winked back, eliciting a giggle, then turned his eyes back to Elladan and Elrohir.

"Your sister will care not for the customs of men. Come, I have a wagon waiting outside of the tavern to carry everyone back."

* * *

Glorfindel's thrusts were alternatively rough, and deliberately sloppy, or gentle and precise. Erestor favored both, but now, clinging to Glorfindel's shoulders as Glorfindel thrust into him in manner reminiscent of a dwarven hammering technique, Erestor was inclined to favor the former over all else. 

Erestor's hands clawed at Glorfindel's shoulders, lips pressing against sensitive regions of Glorfindel's throat, then to the little place under Glorfindel's jaw that Erestor knew from much _research_ , could make a noise come from Glorfindel's lips that was positively sinful to hear.

  
In response, Glorfindel's arousal knocked against a spot deep within him, the oncoming flood of pleasure taking Erestor by surprise. His climax followed behind, Glorfindel's name leaving his lips in a scream.

Glorfindel's climax was reached soon after, Erestor's name called out, backed by cheers. _Cheers_.

Erestor's legs slipped from about Glorfindel's waist, and hot and thick liquid Erestor could feel tricking down his thighs. Erestor cast his eyes over Glorfindel's shoulder, searching for the source of the cheers, and to his immense horror, found a group of humans, clearly kitchen staff, if the aprons and various utensils they wore and held were any indication.

Erestor stood riveted by horror, but Glorfindel turned.

When Glorfindel's eyes met the humans, they broke out into a series of whoops and cheers.

"Lord elf," begin a man in the forefront of the group, "Would you and your dark haired beauty be so kind as to give us a repeat performance? We'll pay you much in gold." 

* * *

  
The wagon halted before the gates that housed the Duendain's chambers, and the collaboration of elvish and human guards stared.   
  
  
A thin figure slipped out of the gates before the guards could say a word, and advanced on the wagon, climbing nimbly onto it.

"Where is my betrothed?" the figure demanded.

  
Wordlessly, Elladan, Elrohir, and Legolas pointed into the bed of the wagon, where Aragorn lay sprawled atop a cluster of other unconscious Dunedain. 

* * *

"She is angry at me." Aragorn bemoaned the next morning, clutching his head. Gimil shoved a plate of steaming, greasy, salted pork under Aragorn's nose, giving the man a sympathetic look.

"I don't see why, lad. You only had a few drinks and made merry with some lasses."

"She doesn't see it that way." Aragorn groaned.

"A shame. Eat your pork, lad, it'll settle your stomach." Gimli said.  
  
  
  
Across the table from them, Glorfindel was carefully counting a pile of gold coins, humming a song under his breath.

Gimli's regarded him in interest.  
  
  
"Where did you acquire that? I wasn't aware pointy-ears dealt in human currency." Gimil questioned. 

"We do not usually deal in currency of this nature, but last night, I discovered a lucrative business." Glorfindel replied with almost dwarvish aplomb.

"Oh? Tell me more." Gimli said, his interest peaked.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is cool. Please leave it.


End file.
